The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses #2) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,63

faerie cookbooks, and pointed in triumph at the drawing of a thorned spike, below which were paragraphs of runic writing.

“So what’s the deal? Why does the sleep-thorn not put people to sleep?” said Magnus.

“That’s only what it does to Norse gods, I guess,” Jace said. “Look.” He pointed to the text. “Do you want me to translate for you?”

“Of course you can read Old Norse runes,” Magnus said, rolling his eyes.

“I am a man of many talents,” said Jace. “Also, my dad was an abusive taskmaster.”

“Fair point.”

“So,” Jace resumed. “The Svefnthorn is made of black adamas.”

“Which is what exactly?” said Clary.

“Adamas corrupted by a demon realm,” Magnus said. “Very rare stuff.” He traced his finger along the illustration of the thorn. “It ties a warlock to that realm and its ruler, and the warlock draws power from it. Makes warlocks much stronger than usual.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” said Alec.

“Until the power overwhelms them, and they either die or are stabbed three times by the thorn and become the willing lackey of the demon who rules the realm,” added Magnus.

“That seems pretty bad,” Alec corrected himself.

“So it’s basically… magic meth?” said Clary.

Jace said, “The Spiral Labyrinth forbade its use in… wait, let me convert the date… 1500 or so.”

“Why would Shinyun say it was a gift?” Alec said.

“Because she’s crazy?” offered Magnus. “The realm has to be Diyu, of course. But why would Shinyun thorn herself? Even she isn’t crazy enough to kill herself for a temporary power boost.”

“Maybe she thinks her demon daddy can prevent her from dying,” suggested Clary.

“The question is, how do we prevent Magnus from dying?” Alec said. He realized he had curled his hands into fists, and made himself uncurl them.

“Maybe an eldest curse can handle it?” suggested Magnus. “Maybe they think there’s something in the Book of the White that would help?”

“I would guess that either you need to go to Diyu as soon as you can, or make sure you never go to Diyu,” said Jace.

Alec rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Maybe Shinyun will show up again and we can ask her in between fights with her demon army.”

“Simon and Isabelle are supposed to be looking into the whereabouts of the Diyu Portal,” said Clary. They all looked over at where they’d last seen the two of them. A stern-looking goblin in rimless spectacles appeared to be angrily lecturing Simon, who was making apologetic gestures. Behind them it appeared that they’d upset a reading circle of toddler-aged hobgoblins. Isabelle saw the others and came over, a stack of books under her arm.

She put them down with a sigh. “Can we come back when we have time to browse? Local history isn’t really my thing.”

“Did you find anything about the location of the old Portal?” said Alec.

“Not really. Simon was writing down the list of places mentioned, but it just reads like a tourist guide to the city.” Isabelle sounded frustrated. “It’s like every famous place is rumored to be the site of the Portal.”

“Shinyun and Ragnor must know,” said Magnus. “They have some way of communicating with Sammael, and we’re pretty sure he’s in Diyu.”

“So we’re back to hoping they show up,” said Clary. “Or checking out every one of these possible locations. Any one of which could turn out to be an open Portal to Hell. Just saying.”

Simon came over to join them, running his hands through his hair. “Word of advice, guys, never piss off a goblin bookseller. They are strict.”

“I hear you’ve got nothing,” Jace said brightly. Simon gave him a look.

“We don’t have nothing,” said Alec. “We know more about the thorn.”

“And I did some reading about Diyu,” said Simon. He plonked his stack of books on top of Isabelle’s.

“It’s Chinese Hell, right?” said Clary.

“Well,” Simon said. “Not really. It’s maybe more like Chinese purgatory? Souls go there to be tortured for their sins for some amount of time before they get reincarnated. It all seems to be very organized—lots of different hells, each with a different ruler; there are judges, and they decide what hell you go to; and civil servants keeping it all running. Or at least,” he added, “it was organized, under Yanluo’s rule. But Yanluo is gone.”

“So now what?” said Alec.

“Reports vary,” said Isabelle dryly.

“Nobody knows, because nobody’s been there since Yanluo died,” Simon added.

“Sammael could be trying to gain energy from all the soul torturing,” Alec offered.

“That seems like a lot of work,” Magnus said, frowning. “I’ve never thought of Sammael as the